


Too Many Legs

by vivi1138



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't add to Goodreads, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, accidental magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25913392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: Draco is thrilled when his son produces a powerful bout of accidental magic. But unlike most children his age, Scorpius doesn't stop there, and soon Draco is overwhelmed. Harry just finds it funny.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 281
Collections: HP Fluff Fest 2020





	Too Many Legs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladderofyears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/gifts).



> Prompt by [Ladderofyears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears) : _Harry and Draco's young son is coping with some very unpredictable bursts of new magic, often with some very funny and messy results!_  
>  \-----  
> I've changed Scorpius' birth year for this, so if his age compared to Teddy's seems odd, that's why!  
> \-----  
> Story beta'd by [hpdmgk](https://hpdmgk.tumblr.com/) , thank you so much!

There’s one thing Draco doesn’t like about the third Sunday of the month, and it’s visiting Malfoy Manor to pick up his son. He knows it's all in his head at this point, but he can’t shake the memories of the Dark Lord’s rotten magic seeping through the walls and poisoning the air he breathes. Unfortunately, after years of exile, Mother and Father have chosen to come back, purify the grounds, and settle there permanently. So, regardless of how rude it is, Draco Apparates into the main hallway so that he can avoid looking at the house looming over him from the top of the hill. Mother understands and never says a word about it. Floo travel is out of the question; Scorpius is allergic to Floo powder.

He’s relieved that Father isn’t in the parlour this time. He has no wish to argue about marrying Astoria, and he refuses to explain, again, why she helped conceive Scorpius, no strings attached, and would do it again in a heartbeat. Carrying a child for another couple is a concept that Father will never understand. Draco doesn’t care about his opinion anymore, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys being ambushed and questioned once a month. Eager to avoid an encounter, he finds his way to the west wing, Mother’s favourite part of the Manor, and smiles as she walks towards him, arms open wide. He accepts a brief hug, comforted by her floral perfume. She’s been wearing the same expensive cologne for as long as he can remember.

“Mother, how was your day?”

“Quite interesting, my darling. Why don’t you come in?”

There’s a peal of laughter coming from the conservatory and Draco doesn’t miss the subtle twitch of Mother’s eyebrows. He notices the odd strand of hair escaping her braid, and wonders if Scorpius threw a tantrum. That would be quite unlike him; his precious little bean is nothing like Draco was at his age.

He steps into the conservatory and finds it spotless. There’s a pile of crayons and several pieces of parchment on the table, already telling Draco that Scorpius spent the day drawing. There’s laughter again, and he looks to the left, and there he is: his little son is kneeling on a chaise longue, tiny hands and nose pressed against the window, each breath fogging the glass. He glances at Mother, who suddenly looks older. Whatever is amusing his boy, it can’t possibly be that bad. He walks up to him and tickles him.

“Papa!” Scorpius gasps, screeches and jumps into his arms. He points outside. “Look!”

Wrapping his arms around him more securely and settling him on his hip, Draco finally takes a peek at the garden.

He expects something like a scarecrow dressed like Harry, or Mother’s dogs acting silly, but no, what he sees leaves him speechless. It’s a peacock—well, it’s Albert, the oldest and meanest of them all—but it looks like a giant pincushion with a long tail and a neck. The bird is acting like nothing is amiss, pecking at Mother’s hydrangeas, but it has more than two legs. They’re all around its body, sticking out like stiff, thin arms, clawing at nothing—if the peacock were to attempt to roll down a hill, it wouldn’t roll at all, it would just walk.

“What happened?” He asks, and he tries not to laugh, because Albert will know, and it will find Draco and eat him in his sleep. Albert holds grudges.

“It’s a hedjog!”

Draco is excellent at deciphering Scorpius-speak, but he still has doubts. “A hedgehog?”

Scorpius nods.

“All right. But you know this is a peacock, and peacocks only have two legs.”

“Hedjogs have many!” Scorpius bounces in his arms, sticky fingers gripping Draco’s shirt. “Many, many, many!”

“Many legs?”

“Yes! Lemme go, Papa.”

Draco bends down and releases his hellion, who runs to his grandmother. “Grandma! Tell Papa ’bout the legs!”

Mother brushes Scorpius’ messy blonde hair away from his forehead. “I will, sweetheart. Now go get ready, you still need to wash your hands.” When Scorpius leaves, now humming to the tune of _I Just Can’t Wait to be King_ , Narcissa crosses her arms and stares at Draco, who feels very much on alert. “So. I read him a story about a hedgehog last night, and he believes that the spines are legs. He won’t hear reason. Do you, perhaps, have an inkling as to why?”

Draco has a pretty good idea. They went to the zoo recently, and Scorpius liked the millipedes; he spent the next few days asking why cats only needed four legs, why spiders have eight and not four, why Thestrals need any if they are invisible, and why snakes got rid of them altogether. Then, Luna babysat when Draco and Harry went on a date, and because Luna is certifiably insane, she introduced him to the wonders of limitless imagination and magical creatures that definitely do not exist. Draco tried to repair the damage; he did his best to prove to Scorpius that vineyards were not, in fact, populated by giant leafy millipedes pretending to be grapevines. Harry didn’t help, because he thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Still, it doesn’t explain the peacock. Draco asks his Mother about it.

“Did you transfigure Albert to entertain Scorp?” he asks, and Mother narrows her eyes.

“I did not. What you see is purely accidental magic. I cannot reverse it. Albert is alright, of course. The legs don’t seem to hinder its wings.”

There’s a part of Draco that is now strutting like a proud dad; it’s seriously impressive. It’s also his baby’s first real display of power, though the anti-carrot shield Scorpius once cast around his mouth was rather clever already. There’s another part of Draco that now worries about Albert targeting the little boy for the next decade if he sets foot outside.

“Don’t worry,” Narcissa says, “if all else fails, Minerva should know what to do. Is Harry at home?”

 _As if I’d worry about a bird that must have been a Dark Lord in a previous life_ , Draco thinks. He nods and looks at Scorpius, who is carefully climbing down the stairs with his backpack and his cuddly Niffler. “Harry was unpacking when I left. Ready, Scorpius?”

“Noo! I need to say goodbye!” Scorpius hands him the backpack and jumps up and down, eyes glittering.

“Go, then, but don’t take too long.” Draco sighs at his son’s insistence that every house-elf must be talked to. He keeps the backpack close to his chest and tells Mother about his and Harry’s weekend trip to the Faroe Islands. They’ve seen parenthood take a toll on more than one couple, and they’ve sworn to do their best to keep the passion going. So, once a month, they travel somewhere together for two days, leaving Scorpius with his grandparents. Once a week, they have a romantic evening and ask one of their friends to watch their child. If there’s a Quidditch match or another impromptu event they want to attend, Astoria is always delighted to babysit the boy she carried. Scorpius loves everyone; unlike Harry and Draco, who cried the first few times their baby was away from them, he doesn’t mind one bit.

Scorpius comes back just as Mother recommends Cyprus for their next outing. So far, her ideas have been a success, so Draco adds that one to his great Wooing Potter list. It’s a work-in-progress.

He Apparates home into their back garden in Hogsmeade with a giggling boy in his arms, because for some reason, Scorpius enjoys the feeling of being squeezed through a tube. The house stands on the outskirts of the village, near the cave where Sirius Black once dwelled, far enough to avoid the students’ prying eyes on Hogsmeade weekends. They can see the Shrieking Shack from the bathroom window, and the back of the house gives a great view of Hogwarts. It’s the most convenient location for Harry, who teaches Defence and didn’t want to live in the castle. Draco is a stay-at-home dad, but he likes to write when he has some free time. He's published quite a few textbooks under a pen name.

His heart flutters in his chest at the sight of Harry rushing out of the house to greet them. Scarhead is wearing a ridiculously frilly apron that once belonged to Molly Weasley. His hair is a mess of loose, uneven curls and spikes, but it looks like he just had sex now that it’s getting longer. When it’s short, it’s like he was struck by lightning. It doesn’t matter either way, Draco loves it. He drags Harry into an embrace and kisses him, slow and soft, and they head inside together.

Scorpius goes to his room so he can tell all of his soft toys about his weekend at Grandma's and Grandpa's, and Draco helps Harry set the table for dinner. There’s a pie in the oven, and it smells heavenly.

Harry presses himself against Draco’s body and nuzzles the back of his neck when the last fork is adequately aligned with the napkin. “How are your parents?”

Eyes fluttering shut, Draco leans back. “Father did me a favour by being conspicuously absent. Mother was frazzled; Scorp transfigured Albert.” Draco tells him everything. He twists his body until he’s facing Harry, and he can guess by the gleam in his gaze that their son’s antics amuse him. Harry doesn’t have the same relationship with magic as Draco or another magical-raised parent. He’s just proud to see Scorpius do anything new; he doesn’t care about power levels. Draco does, still, to this today. It’s not because he wouldn’t love a child without magic, but he’d be worried about their quality of life. Though, really, the ritual that conceived Scorpius used Harry’s, Astoria’s and Draco’s magic. It’d be surprising if Scorpius were a Squib.

He’s ready to explain why the Transfiguration was an incredible display for such a young child, but then he hears a noise, looks up, and lets out a strangled sound. Their pet ferret, Slinky, is floating near the ceiling.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry exhales, then snorts and reaches up. He grabs Slinky, who ducks and tries to bite his nose.

Draco spots a grinning Scorpius in the doorframe. “Did you do that?” Scorpius nods. Draco steps away from Harry and kneels, so he’s at eye-level with the child. “Listen, Slinky liked it this time, but it’s better if you don’t use magic on animals. It can hurt them.”

Scorpius now looks devastated. His lower lip trembles, his big grey eyes shine with tears, and he stares at Slinky, who is now climbing all over Harry. “I hurt Slinky?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t, he’s all right.” Draco pulls him into a hug. “Hear that? He’s not making that sound when he’s unhappy, right?” Scorpius hesitates, then nods. “I’m sure he had fun. I’m just telling you to be very careful in the future, but you didn’t do anything bad.”

Fear quickly forgotten, Scorpius escapes Draco’s embrace and runs to Harry. Slinky jumps into his arms and Scorpius apologises and promises never to make him fly again. Slinky doesn’t nip at him; he never does. Draco doesn’t want to admit how much he likes the creature, because Slinky was a gift from the Weasel, but Ronald _knows_.

Two instances of accidental magic in one day aren’t unheard of. After dinner, once Scorpius is asleep, and Slinky is dozing off in his cage like the lazy lump he is, Draco and Harry barely talk about what happened before finding a better use of their time. Harry has to be at Hogwarts early tomorrow, and Draco is still a little sore from last night, so they keep it simple and quick and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Life goes on peacefully for the next forty-eight hours until Scorpius somehow inverts gravity in his room. In a panic, Draco attempts to get him out—what if the spell stops and Scorpius falls from the ceiling?—but as soon as he steps into the room, the world turns upside down, and he almost retches all over his son’s toys. Shaking, he crawls towards him, noting that the lampshade would benefit from a Cleaning Charm once in a while. Scorpius is pouting, cheeks puffed up and lower lip jutting out.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” As he pronounces these words, his brain is screaming at him because it’s a stupid question.

Scorpius points at a pile of Lego. “It’s broken!”

“Oh, I didn’t see that. I’ll help you rebuild it, don’t worry.” This is the oddest part of this ridiculous situation: a few toys have left their spot on the carpet and followed Scorpius on the ceiling, some taking the fall better than others. Most toys, though, stayed put. The rug itself and the furniture haven’t moved, luckily. Scorpius could’ve been hurt. “Did you fall?” Draco asks, breathing a sigh of relief when his son clings to him and shakes his head. He still checks him over but doesn’t find any bruise or scratch. “Hold onto me, baby.”

“’m not a baby!”

Draco kisses his soft blonde hair. “No, you’re not. You’re a big boy, look at everything you can do with magic already! I’m so proud of you, love.” He takes his wand out, secures his hold on Scorpius, and summons his broom. There’s a loud crash, and it comes to him, twisting around, and Draco flies out of the room. The return to normal isn’t too bad if you’re flying, Draco finds. He lands in the entrance hall just in time; the spell loses its hold on the room, and the toys fall from the ceiling.

When Harry comes home from work, Draco grabs his arm and hands him a wooden spoon. “The bolognese is almost ready. I broke the shed and kitchen windows, but they’re fixed. Scorp is watching _Mulan_ , and I’m going out for half an hour.” He kisses him before Harry can ask what’s wrong, abandons his “responsible dad” persona and leaves the house. Scorpius could’ve hurt himself and Draco has to fight against a wave of hysteria. None of his parenting books spoke about dangerous accidental magic, and now he knows better. He’s reluctant to reach out to Molly about it because she’ll want to invite him over for tea and Draco still isn’t comfortable at the Burrow, even if Scorpius loves it. Well, he can sacrifice this much, can’t he?

He takes a deep breath and heads back inside, welcomed by the delicious smell of the sauce he prepared. Draco knows how to cook, now, and that’s also courtesy of Molly. Mother wouldn’t know how to boil an egg.

He and Harry have a heart-to-heart later that night, while a movie plays in the background. Arthur has made quite a bit of money by figuring out a way to introduce technology to the wizarding world; but as much as Draco likes _Legends of the Fall_ , he’s distracted. He wants to sleep in Scorpius’ room, and Harry is having none of it. The prat is too relaxed about the events, in Draco’s opinion. It’s odd because Harry is usually the mother hen when it comes to their son. But then Harry Accio’s a piece of parchment and holds it in front of Draco’s face, and everything snaps into place.

“Did you tell her?” Draco asks with a frown, reading Astoria’s reassurances about accidental magic. She’d know: she’s an Unspeakable. One sentence stands out: _accidental magic cannot harm the caster_. Draco feels the heat under his skin as his fear ebbs away. That’s what being a parent is: losing one’s capacity for rational thought on a daily basis. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers having been told about this when Scorpius was born, and he groans, staring at the letter with a sneer. He doesn’t like being reminded of his failings. That’s why none of the books had anything on the topic. It doesn’t _happen_.

Harry rubs circles on Draco’s back. “I Floo-called her. She was busy, so she sent a note back.” He smiles and kisses Draco’s nose, and Draco melts into his arms against his will. “Yes, I made sure Scorpius wasn’t in the room, and I put the powder back in the safe. He didn’t even sneeze.” Harry is probably looking out for any of Draco’s dramatic reactions when it comes to allergies. It’s insulting; Draco is not _dramatic_ , he’s expressive.

Days pass and not one of them is free of Scorpius’ antics. Sugar turns into salt, carrots mysteriously vanish, and Slinky gets extra legs (McGonagall fixes that, and congratulates him on a thorough job with Albert—apparently, the bird from Hell was much harder to fix, but Draco suspects it’s because it’s Albert, infamous for being a pain in everybody’s arse). When the school year ends, Draco can spot streaks of grey in his hair.

Draco is watering a patch of dittany when Scorpius squeals and runs to the edge of the wards. Harry scoops him up quickly and lets him sit on his shoulders—Draco is envious. Scorpius is getting heavy, and Draco’s back hates him when he picks him up. Then Scorpius holds out his arms to hug his cousin, and Harry almost drops him.

Teddy rolls their eyes and gives Scorpius a fond smile. “Hey Scorp!” Blue hair switches to white-blond and Scorpius laughs.

Harry nods towards the door. “Come on in; your room is ready.”

Teddy dips their head and bows, smirking. They’re such a little shit; Draco loves them. Then their Hogwarts trunk nearly crushes a tomato plant, and Draco loves them a little bit less. He still hugs them but mutters about genetics. It delights the teen, though. Any mention that they’re like their mother makes them beam. Not that Draco ever knew Nymphadora, but he’s heard enough about her to paint a good picture.

Teddy is fifteen and spends half the summers with Harry and Draco; unlike most magical children, they never dealt with accidental magic, because they’re a Metamorphmagus and their magic has had an outlet since birth. It probably explains why Harry isn’t freaking out about Scorpius: Teddy changing their appearance constantly must’ve been scarier than making potatoes triple in size.

“So, I got into the Slytherin common room last week,” Teddy says like they’re talking about having eaten rice.

Draco’s eyes narrow. “If this involved Polyjuice—”

“Why would I need Polyjuice when I can do this?” Teddy turns into a carbon-copy of Professor Trelawney and points at Draco with a shaky finger. “I see your future, oh my poor boy!” They switch back to themself as Draco snorts. Teddy doesn’t change their appearance much aside from their hair. They enjoy looking like their parents too much.

Those quick changes freak Draco out, honestly, but they’re also pretty funny. “So, Slytherin; what did you think?”

“Creepy, green, dark—but the window is awesome. The Giant Squid was there.” Teddy spots the Dirigible Plum tree and their eyes light up. “Ooh is that mine?”

They planted it together last summer, and it grew at an incredible rate after Luna told Draco to use a special fertiliser on it. Draco nods. “It is. And yes, Slytherin is like that. Not the cosy, comfy, bright Hufflepuff. Sorry.”

“Hufflepuff isn’t just comfy. We have swords, battle axes and a mace on the walls.”

Draco knows that; as a teacher, Harry is allowed inside, and he spilt the secrets of every House in a letter a week after he took the job (he also reported finding Draco’s bed and the engraved “Potter Stinks” on the bedpost). “Of course you do. No one else could be trusted with weapons. The Ravenclaws would try to study the sharpness of the blade, and can you imagine what would happen with the Gryffindors?”

Teddy’s smile widens, and Harry calls them over.

Draco knows Teddy’s presence won’t help Scorpius one bit; Scorpius will want to show off. But it’s one more person who can help if Scorpius ends up on the ceiling again. He sighs and levitates the trunk into the house, Teddy skipping behind him.

“Teddy Teddy Teddy!” Scorpius yells, bouncing in Harry’s arms. Harry groans and lets him go, and the four-year-old grabs his cousin’s wrist and drags them into his room. “Come and play!”

“I’ve been summoned,” Teddy declares as if they just gave Harry and Draco terrible news. “I shall face my fate, and I may not see you again. Farewell, Cousin, Godfather.”

The door closes, and Draco hears Scorpius babbling, an endless stream of words muffled by the walls.

Harry opens the door to the basement when the trunk almost crashes into him (Draco flicked his wand and he didn’t do it on purpose, he swears). Teddy used to have a nice room upstairs, but when they visited for Christmas in their first year at Hogwarts, they claimed the basement as their own. It’s like having their own apartment, and Teddy doesn’t mind living underground, so Harry and Draco agreed and turned that space into Teddy’s home. It has a private bathroom, too. Draco brings their trunk down the stairs, Harry on his heels.

“Huh, you cleaned up,” Harry observes, a finger trailing on a shelf.

Draco’s eye twitches as he turns on the magical display behind the fake window. “Your lack of faith wounds me, Potter.”

“I live to serve.” He opens the trunk and starts taking clothes out.

Draco hesitates when Harry dumps a pile of socks in his arms. “Teddy might not like that.”

“What, rifling through their stuff?”

“Would you blame them? I’d have thrown a tantrum if Mother had done that to me.” The thought makes Draco shudder. At fifteen, his trunk was home to more than chocolate frog cards.

Harry ponders that for a bit and agrees. “Just the clothes then.” He closes the trunk and opens the wardrobe, and Draco arranges everything by colour.

It’s dinner time when Teddy asks about Scorpius’ magic, impressed by whatever the tiny urchin has done while Draco was cooking.

“I don’t want that,” Scorpius grumbles, pushing five green beans around in his plate.

Draco glances at him. “You like beans.” It’s true; especially those, roasted with onion powder and bacon. They’re amazing, and Draco usually has to give him a second serving.

“They’re green!”

“Green is great, look!” Teddy’s hair now mirrors Harry’s eyes.

Scorpius pouts, and suddenly the entire house is green. Draco sees his hands and jumps out of his seat. He’s green too! “Oh gods, why?” he whimpers.

Scorpius’ laugh is beautiful to hear; Teddy hides their face in their arms and wheezes, and Harry is crying and shaking with mirth.

Everything, from the windows to the silverware, from baby pictures to Slinky’s fur, is emerald, olive, mint or lime green. Everything, except the beans, which are now red. Scorpius eats them without another word.

It takes hours to cancel that spell, and Scorpius is too excited to sleep. He giggles until it’s well past midnight and Harry and Draco are exhausted. Teddy, who has always been a great kid, decides to bring Scorpius to the basement to spend the night. They’re hoping it’ll calm him down.

It does.

They all sleep late the next morning.

“Why don’t you get him a wand?” Teddy wonders at the breakfast table.

Harry glances at Draco, who looks him in the eye, confused.

Teddy cuts Scorpius’ pancake in half, and continues, “Accidental magic stops when you get a way to channel it. So, wand.”

“His magic isn’t mature enough,” Harry points out, but Draco shakes his head. That’s untrue. Eleven is an arbitrary age set by the British Ministry; most countries don’t have the same restrictions. He tells him so, which makes Harry’s eyebrows climb up to his hairline. “What do you mean?”

Draco remembers learning colour-changing spells with a short, gnarly wand that seemed to hate him. “I had one. It didn’t choose me, and it had a dampener, but it worked for basic Charms.” He bites back a laugh at Harry’s outraged expression.

“Anu Patil brags about hers. They have magical primary schools in India. Ditched the British laws as soon as they could. She said most of it is theory, but kids still get their wand early and she aced the First and Second Year tests. That’s why her mum raised her in Delhi and not here.”

“I want a wand!” Scorpius pipes up, and Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. Some things should not be discussed where little ears are listening.

“It’s illegal, Scorpius,” Harry murmurs, just loud enough to be heard. Not very convincing.

Teddy grins, and Draco pokes his partner’s shoulder. “Potter, you’re a rule-breaker.”

“I’m not!”

Draco is not about to let Harry’s sudden desire to adhere to the Ministry’s decisions get in the way of what he thinks is the best idea since sliced bread. He crosses his arms on his chest and tilts his head. “Scared, Potter?”

Teddy applauds him, and Harry mutters about Hermione finding out and setting him on fire, but Draco won that one for sure.

When they take a holiday to Spain the week after, Harry is more excited than Scorpius and gives an embarrassing display of emotions when the wandmaker shows them his best child-friendly wands. They’re short, made of wood associated with peace, friendship or kindness, and they each contain a stone. Scorpius is chosen by a rowan wand with an Amethyst core. The dampener is woven into the wood and looks like a thread of gold.

It’s perfect.

Draco will have to add magic to Scorpius’ tutoring, and it’s a bit scary—Draco is no teacher. But he can’t expect Harry to come home from work just to teach even more, so he’ll learn. At least, Teddy will be more than happy to do it this summer. It’s not like they care about not using magic outside of school.

And that’s what happens.

Scorpius’ favourite spell is _Lumos_ , which he succeeds in casting after a few days. His accidental magic stops, just as Draco hoped.

But Scorpius still manages to find a loophole, and the next time he stays at Malfoy Manor, Albert the peacock sprouts extra legs once more. Only, this time, Scorpius did it on purpose, and he’s not sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [Tumblr](https://penguinanimagus.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FuzzyJawa) , come say hi!
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